Gone
by cntrysingerchick
Summary: When a tragic one vehicle accident changes the lives of Meredith & Derek forever, will they be able to recover, or will one of them be gone? A story of love and loss, pain and triumph. Set during the first half of the Grey's Anatomy years. Post wedding but pre kids.
1. The Day My World Stopped

**Author's Note:**

 **This story was originally posted 2/2017 and was completely revised 6/2017. Some chapters were merged and scenes were added. If you are a new reader, you're good to go. If you read previously, I recommend you start over because some has changed. I'm unsure what may have happened to reviews when I merged and shifted chapters. Hopefully it didn't mess them up too badly.**

 **This story is heavy. It is not bright and shiny. It will not be bright and shiny for quite some time. As always, I firmly believe Derek & Meredith belong together. I will not give spoilers for this story, except to say that I am not Shonda (crazy) Rhimes, and if you've read previous stories of mine you know I am a romantic at heart. I can't say for sure exactly when this story takes place, but lets say some time after Derek was shot and before the rest of the crazy ever came into play. To enjoy this story, you kind of have to pretend the last half of the Grey's Anatomy years haven't happened. It's almost AU. **

**For the sake of this story, please allow for creative freedom. Some characters will still be included that are no longer on the show. Some events may not be in order of the show. Some medical facts may not be accurate. I will always do my very best to research, but there may be some inaccuracies as I am not a physician.**

 **This story may change POV at some point. That is yet to be decided. I'm sort of flying by the seat of my pants on this one, which is new for me! As always, if you are interested in seeing something in this story, just let me know via review or PM.**

Disclaimer: I own no characters in Grey's Anatomy. The story here is just for fun. The Grey's universe belongs to Shonda Rhimes. Unfortunately.

 **"Gone"**

He was gone. Derek, my everything, was gone. I was broken, shattered in pieces on the floor. Clammy skin screamed at me as my cheek pressed against cold tile, our tile. Trembling fingers reached out, tracing the line in the grout. Derek had chosen this tile. He'd loved it from the moment he first saw it. I'd had my doubts, but he'd insisted. He'd known from the start it would be perfect, just like us. The two of us together were, well, incredible. We were as perfect a match as two people could be, I guess. I was dark and twisty. Derek was not. He was everything that was good in this world. I'd loved that man from the first moment I'd laid eyes on him. As time had gone by, as days had turned to years, my feelings for him had only grown. I didn't think it was possible for someone to love more than I loved that man.

You see, Derek was a chance in a lifetime. He was smart, and kind, and good. He was strong, and giving, and bold. Derek knew how to touch the heart of anyone. Derek knew how to reach those who were unreachable. His compassion knew no limits. Then there was his hair. God, the hair. That was the tipping point. My husband's hair was what made ladies weak in the knees. That hair, and those eyes made you swoon. Really. I'd had my fair share of men. I mean, not since Derek. Before that, though, I'd shared a bed with quite a few. I could and always would confidently say that he was a grand slam world series kind of love. He was the kind of love that took your breath away, over and over again.

And now I was left with nothing. Fingers traced rough gray again. Tears rapidly formed a pool under my eyes. I would never be the same. I would never live again. I didn't know how I was breathing. I didn't want to. I wanted to crawl into darkness and disappear. The sound of broken sobs filled the silence. I stared at the ever so subtle grey that stretched across white ceramic. I wasn't sure I'd ever noticed it before. When feet crossed this room my eyes were on him. I'd never given second thought before to the beauty of the squares beneath me. Somehow I managed to recognize the sobs. The sobs were my own, tearing brokenly from my throat which was already hoarse and painedfrom overuse in my grief.

Owen Hunt had held me back as I'd screamed that morning. He'd wrapped strong and unwelcomed arms around my waist as I'd fought and clawed and wailed. I just wanted to go to him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, and with lips brushing against his ear, assure him it would be okay. I'd wanted to cover him. He'd looked so exposed, clothes already cut away so the staff could assess and fight to save him. Electrodes and wires and tubes had already invaded his body, piercing so many places I'd lost count. His eyes were open, staring, still. I'd known then he was gone. In that moment my world had come to a surreal and screeching halt. I had somehow managed to hear, garbled and far away, the voice of the on-call neuro resident say that his pupils were fixed and dilated. A nurse had murmured something about it being too late. I watched as Jackson rubbed a fist over Derek's sternum. I'd screamed again, begging, pleading for a response. Nothing.

They had taken Derek to surgery anyway. They had insisted they should give a craniotomy a shot. They'd insisted he wasn't gone yet. I'd sunk against the floor after Hunt was gone. Sobs wracked my body for so long that I fell asleep there. Several people had tried to move me. Several people had tried to insist I go somewhere else. I was firm and unyielding. Dr. Bailey had pressed Derek's scrub cap into my hands after she woke me. I'd held it as if letting go meant he was dead. Ferry boats. Derek loved ferry boats. Numbly I'd followed her to the surgical waiting room. People were staring. I'd noticed, but then, I didn't. Everything had sort of ceased to exist. I'd needed Derek. I'd wanted Derek. I didn't know how to get through this without...but Derek wasn't there. He wasn't coming. Sobs had returned.

Eventually I'd gone home that night. Alex had insisted I needed rest. I couldn't sleep in the hospital. Some jackass I'd never met from our transplant team had tried to shove consent forms for organ donation into my hands around midnight. I'd snapped. I think the entire floor heard my scream. His clipboard landed against the window with a resounding crack. I'd watched as it fell to the floor, my heart crashing down with it. They'd tried to tell me Derek was gone. They'd tried to tell me his brain was too damaged. They'd given me no hope. I wouldn't talk to anyone, but Alex finally stood in front of me and with unyielding determination had ordered me to get in the car and let him drive me home.

He'd said very little on the drive over. When he walked me to the door I had insisted he not come in. I insisted I was fine. Fingers twisted the scrub cap. Alex had looked at me with the rare compassion he saved for those he truly cared about. He'd firmly insisted miracles could happen and that Derek might recover. Inside I broke again. My trembling hand closed the door without response.

I'd wanted to believe him. I'd wanted to believe that the man I loved would somehow open his eyes again. I wanted to believe that he would come back to me. I wanted to believe that a single vehicle accident, still unexplained, wouldn't be the reason I lost him. I wanted to believe that we would still build a life together. I wanted to believe so many things that now seemed an impossibility.

I, Meredith Grey Shepherd, wanted to believe that it wasn't true. I wanted to believe that Derek Shepherd wasn't really gone.

 **Thank you to all who are here. Let me know what you think, and please keep reading!**


	2. Days 2-4

**"Gone"**

 **Chapter Two**

I woke the next morning with a pounding in my head and a heaviness in my limbs. My heart thudded rapidly against my chest, making no effort to mask the intense anxiety that had taken over me. For a moment the world around me was fuzzy and unclear. My mind tried to focus. My heart screamed to disconnect from reality. Seconds ticked by as if they were hours. Eyes hesitantly looked to the clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning. I sat up slowly, a shaky hand rubbing my eyes. Reluctantly I put two feet on the floor. The button-down shirt I wore shifted, one side falling just off my right shoulder. I was wearing Derek's shirt.

Reality came crashing back in massive pounding waves, threatening to pull me under if I let it. Fear, despair, and grief gripped my chest. Breathing became fast and heavy. Suddenly I was sobbing. Tears fell rapidly down my cheeks. I could taste the salt as they hit my lips. Derek, Derek wasn't here. Derek was brain dead. Derek wasn't coming back. They wanted me to let Derek go, to donate his organs. Derek's brain function was almost completely gone. There was a series of tests used to determine brain death. He'd failed them all. Oh, God. I couldn't do this. I couldn't live without him. I didn't want to.

Somehow I managed to get in the shower, though I couldn't say how. After I was dry and dressed in clean clothes I couldn't even remember ever stepping foot into the bathroom. My soul continued to rebel against the world around me, desperately seeking solace in a disconnected reality, away from the horrific truth that I had lost the only man I'd ever truly loved. Devastated didn't come close to describing how I felt, it didn't even brush the surface of the intense and searing grief that was deep within me.

The sound of my phone jerked me out of a fresh wave of tears. Shaky hands managed to answer. I didn't give a response to the person on the other side of the line. I don't think in that moment I even truly processed what was being said, but I guess a part of me must have because I was quickly in the car on the way back to Seattle Grace. I don't remember the drive, either. I couldn't tell you how I got there in one piece. My mind was somewhere else. My heart was with the man I loved, the man I'd lost. My soul, well it floated somewhere in between, I guess. I was broken, shattered.

"Meredith," I could see visible relief wash over Alex when I stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor where Derek's body was still in the neuro ICU. I'm sure I looked like hell. Whispers were everywhere. People were staring. I didn't care. My husband was gone. Nothing mattered anymore.

"Meredith," Alex tried again. He grabbed my elbow, leading me to the nearby waiting room where there luckily weren't any other families at the moment. "Don't sign the organ donation consents."

"What?" My eyes narrowed, and I stared at him with what I'm sure was obvious confusion.

"The organ donation consents, don't sign them."

"Why?" I shook my head, refusing to allow even a single grain of hope to enter me. I wouldn't, I couldn't. Hope would break me all over again. Hope would kill me.

I watched Alex as he stared at me, and I'm sure he was trying to figure out whether it was worth it to continue. "His latest neuro checks." He said that as if it meant something, as if it explained how and why things were different. He said that as if it meant Derek wasn't really gone.

"Alex," My voice broke.

"Meredith, you have to wait," He pleaded. "Derek's fighting. His latest tests showed some brain activity. Just, wait. Okay?"

I suppressed the urge to laugh, then wiped tears from my eyes. I felt crazy. "Don't, please." The universe was so cruel.

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure. You know I wouldn't do that."

His insistence gave me pause. "He could recover?" I sat there, dumbfounded. I sat there processing his words as if I was just another patient, as if I wasn't a surgical resident. In those moments, I probably couldn't identify a single structure in the human body, and I didn't want to. Without Derek I was nothing. Without him, I wanted nothing. I would never be a surgeon again. I would never live again. I was grateful that my friend interrupted dark thoughts before they consumed me.

"I think he can." His words were firm.

Did Alex believe in God? Did he believe in some higher power? Did he believe in miracles? I didn't recall him being someone who did. Yet here he was, in front of me, insisting that I give my husband more time before I let them rip organs out of his body to give to someone else.

"Come on," I was vaguely aware of him guiding me down the hall to Derek's room and into a chair at his bedside.

I reached over and brushed fingers across Derek's hand. His face was almost unrecognizable beneath the massive amount of swelling that was normal post-op for craniotomy patients. His hair was hidden beneath a white bandage that covered most of his head where incisions had been made and flaps of bone had been removed to release increasing pressure in his brain. He felt so cold. His skin was ice beneath my hand, skin pulled tight. I listened to the whirring of the ventilator as it breathed for him, forcing air into his lungs through the tube down his throat. There was a rhythmic beeping of the monitor keeping track of his heart rate. Every so often I could hear the soft humming of the blood pressure cuff as it inflated on his arm. I was so trapped in the hell that was watching my husband lie there looking dead that I didn't notice Alex still standing against the frame of the door, watching.

The dam broke suddenly and with rapid vengeance. Sobs wracked my body as I clung to Derek's hand. "Please don't go, Derek. Please. I can't do this. I, I can't. Please, Derek. Come back to me, Derek, please." I could feel Alex's hand gently rest on my shoulder. "I can't lose him."

If he judged my exhausted no make-up face and unbrushed hair, or my red and puffy eyes, it didn't show. "Give him more time." He repeated what he'd said before. I wasn't sure whether it was helpful or not. "He's been taking a few breaths over the vent. There is definitely some brain stem activity there."

"He could live," I tested the words, weighing how they felt once they escaped my lips.

"We've seen miracles before, Mer. They do happen."

"Not to me." Who was he kidding? The universe hated me. The universe relished in my destruction.

"You don't know that." His voice was firm. "Derek's beat the odds before."

There was a part of me that wanted to argue, a part of me that wanted to remind him what life dealt me. But there was also a part of me that wanted to grab his words and hold tight to the hope that a future with my husband was still possible. The second part of me won. Despite my better judgement, I began to hope and believe that he might pull through. "Please fight, Derek. Please come back." I barely recognized the whisper. Everything still felt so surreal. I was giving in to hope. I didn't want to. I didn't want to face the crushing blow of reality again, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to believe Derek was going to be alright. I wanted to believe my world would keep going. I didn't want this to be it. There was so much we had left to do together, so many dreams we still needed to come true. There were so many moments we hadn't had yet. He'd promised me forever. He'd promised we would die old, wrapped in the arms of one another.

Alex left us alone, quietly sliding the door shut behind him.

Hours stretched into almost a full day. By late that evening, twenty-four hours after his accident, there wasn't much change. Alex was right. He was taking some breaths over the ventilator, but that was about it. There were hourly checks in the ICU, and I was convinced the nurse had actually come more than that despite my insistence that I wasn't a moron and could at least make sure his vitals looked good. Point is, we weren't alone, ever. The ICU was a constant revolving door. I began to wonder what I'd been thinking when I often encouraged patients there to get some rest. Rest?! There was no rest in this hell. I could only hope that Derek wasn't just giving the appearance of sleep. I hoped that he really was sleeping, resting peacefully, away from the pain and traumatic brain injury he'd sustained.

"Dr. Grey," The unwelcome voice of the on-call neurosurgeon interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the clock and sighed. Eight-thirty. I began to wonder why I wasn't hungry. I didn't remember eating lunch, or dinner. I looked up at Dr. Nelson when he stepped to the other side of Derek's bed. I knew he was there to give me the results of the latest tests to determine whether my husband was clinically brain-dead. They'd made me leave the room several hours ago for them. I was a nervous wreck, I think more than I was even the day before. "Is he gone?" I didn't want to beat around the bush. I didn't want to drag this out.

My heart threatened to leap when my eyes made out the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "He's improving." He echoed Alex's words from that morning. "There is brain activity."

"But," My breath hitched. I didn't know weather to rejoice or hold tight to self preservation. "Yesterday, you were sure. Everyone was sure. Everyone insisted he was gone. I was asked to sign organ donation forms."

"Hasn't happened very often, Dr. Grey, but every now and then I've seen miracles. Appears Derek is going to be one to add to the list."

"He's not gone," I couldn't stop the tears that poured down my cheeks. "He's not gone." I knew I must have seemed like an idiot, but shock gripped me. I was a mess of shock and grief, of hope and joy. I cried. I don't know for how long, but eventually he interrupted.

"There's no guarantee how much he will recover. I can't give you assurances that he will wake up or that he will be the man we all knew. But he is improving. It's my recommendation that we continue treatment and give him more time. His breathing is much better than even this afternoon."

"Do you think he's aware? I mean, do you think he hears us? Do you think he's in pain?" Questions of a concerned family member poured out of my mouth before the surgeon in me could stop them. Here in the ICU, next to Derek's bed, I couldn't think straight. I couldn't remember a single thing I'd learned in that hospital.

"He's on some good doses of pain meds, and we have him still heavily sedated to prevent another increase in intra-cranial pressure. Hard to say if he can hear us. It's dependent on how much brain activity he has, and how much of a hold those sedation meds have on him. Studies do indicate even patients in a coma can hear, so it is possible."

I wasn't sure I had ever heard Dr. Nelson sound so supportive and encouraging. Usually that side of neurosurgery was reserved for Derek. Usually he was the one demanding the doctors in his department learn to have a better bedside manner. I decided to count that a blessing. If Dr. Nelson was positive, that meant there really was hope.

My Derek may not be gone.

 ***** * GA ** GA ** GA **

I stayed at Derek's bedside non-stop for the next three days. By the fourth day post accident and invasive brain surgery, I was beyond exhausted. There was really no place to sleep in the intensive care unit. I tried to get comfortable in the reclining chair at Derek's bedside, but it was a wasted effort. There were a few times when I managed to string together a couple hours of sleep here and there, but that was about it. The constant in and out of staff members didn't help. I'd tried to be patient and understanding, but I hadn't been able to help snapping a few times. The longer Derek was unchanged, the more my heart grew weary. I missed him. I needed him. I was desperate for him to come back to me.

We'd won a huge victory the prior evening when he was able to come off the ventilator. It was something none of us ever thought we would see, and even some of the nurses had teared up as we'd watched Derek take his first breaths without support. For a time it had given me hope that he would soon open his eyes and talk to me again, but when night crept into morning again, the hope was gone. Four days was a long time, an eternity really, without any cognitive responses. I was scared, so scared, that he would never wake up. I was terrified that the independent breathing was the last success he would have. I didn't want to have to face the decision of removing my husband from life support. I could not make that decision.

"Derek," I whispered to him again as I reached over and took his hand, holding onto it for a moment. "Please open your eyes." I glanced at the clock. It had been an hour since his sedation meds were discontinued. I knew Dr. Nelson was hovering somewhere in the hallway, waiting to see if he would respond. This was a huge test, a huge step. We needed to see if Derek could function on his own. We'd given his physical body an extended amount of time to heal itself, so the discontinuation of the sedation medications was the next step. An hour was a long time, though, and I was beginning to feel desperate.

I let go of his hand and reached out, gently brushing fingers over his cheek. "I love you, so much."

Derek's eyelids fluttered. It was only for a split second, but I was sure I saw it. "Derek," I almost didn't trust my voice as I rapidly shoved tears from my eyes. I ran fingers over his cheek again, and a hiccuped sob broke from my lips when he opened his eyes and looked at me. "Oh." I couldn't get my brain to connect thoughts. "Hi," My voice was barely a whisper.

I wanted to beg him to talk to me. I wanted to beg him to prove that his brain was still connecting the dots. I didn't want to overwhelm him, though, so I didn't say anything else. Silence stretched.

"Wh.." I watched as he struggled to speak. I watched as frustration and pain filled his eyes. Carefully, I took his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay, I know it's hard. You're doing great." I gathered a deep breath, wondering if he had any memory of what happened. "There was an accident. You're in the ICU. You had a craniotomy four days ago." I left it there, not wanting to overwhelm him.

"Mm.." He again struggled, and I brushed my thumb over the back of his hand in an effort of soft encouragement. "W..mm..eh.." His eyes closed again and my heart dropped into my stomach. He couldn't talk. I didn't know if he could understand me. I didn't know if he knew who I was. He was still unmoving. I didn't know if he even could move. I felt as if I was going to throw up. Waves of nausea overtook me. "It's okay, Derek. It's alright." Words betrayed feelings. I whispered, bringing his hand to my mouth so I could kiss the back of it. "Rest. It's alright. I'm right here. There's no rush."

He groaned, and the knife in my stomach twisted further. "Derek," My hand reached to cover my mouth when my voice broke. I forced back sobs and wiped away more tears. "If you're in pain, I can get Dr. Nelson to up your dose of morphine."

Silence stretched. I contemplated getting up to find Dr. Nelson. I needed someone to reassure me that this was okay, that this was a normal part of this process. I wasn't convinced. Fear threatened to pull me under a new set of crashing waves. Resolutely, I finally stood, admitting that I did need a second set of eyes. Just as I turned to leave, a clattering sound snapped my attention back to his bedside. My eyes widened in horror as I looked at the call button that had been pushed to the floor from the bed. Derek's hand shook. Scratch that. Derek's entire arm was shaking. It almost looked like some sort of..my heart stopped when his entire body followed. He was seizing. "Derek!" My hand slammed into the button on the wall. "I need some help in here!" I yelled though I knew it wasn't necessary. Marcy, Derek's nurse, was assigned only to him. She watched him like a hawk. She was in his room within seconds.

"He woke up. Tried to talk, closed his eyes, and..." I could barely figure out how to explain things. I was losing him. Or maybe he never really was coming back. Derek wouldn't want to live like this. Derek wouldn't want to be trapped in his body. I didn't try to fight the tears this time. I almost felt as if I was floating somewhere high above, not really there. I watched Marcy inject anti-seizure meds into his IV. When his body was finally still, I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Seized for about two minutes." Marcy looked over when Dr. Nelson entered the room. "Vitals are okay." She was watching the monitor. The air held a thick tension. I wanted to run. "Dr. Grey said he was awake before that. Was attempting to talk."

"He couldn't," Somehow I found my voice.

"Or perhaps, didn't." Dr. Nelson still held onto his optimism. "Transient seizures can be normal following a craniotomy." I knew he was saying it for my sake, to offer me some kind of comfort. I also knew that my husband would say that while they could be normal, they certainly were not ideal. "He's been down for four days. It's reasonable to think that he will need time to master small tasks again. The injury to his brain was significant." He said that as if somehow that wasn't obvious. I wanted to scream. I watched as he looked to the machine to make sure Derek's ICP was still stable. An increase in the pressure in his brain now would be devastating. He must have been satisfied because he returned his pen light to his pocket after checking Derek's pupils. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. In the meantime, lets keep him on a base dose of meds to try to prevent the seizing again."

Marcy followed him out of the room. We were alone again. Nervously I tucked Derek's blanket back around him, grabbing a new warm one from the hall before I sat down again. I wanted to do something, needed to do something. But there was nothing I could do. Instead I again sat and stared, waiting.

The meds knocked Derek out for another hour, and I was both shocked and elated when I watched him open his eyes again. "Hi," I whispered, forcing a smile to my face. His eyes didn't hold a heavy picture of pain this time, and for that I was grateful. A quick look at the clock told me Marcy had given his base dose of morphine just an hour prior. I was grateful he was awake now. I didn't want him to stuffer. He already had enough odds stacked against him.

He stared at me for what seemed like hours though I'm sure it was only a minute or two. Then finally his right hand flexed. I blinked back tears as I watched him slowly inch his hand over to take mine. "Derek," His name came in a half laugh, half sob. "God, I've missed you." The gentle squeeze he gave my hand told me I'd been wrong. My Derek wasn't gone. He wasn't gone. Derek was still here. We might have a hell of a road ahead, but we were going to fight. My husband was strong. We could do this.

"Mm..m.." My heart hammered as I watched him try to form even one word. Please, God, let him be able to talk. "Mer...Meredith."

My name had never sounded so beautiful. "You're beautiful." I blurted out, sobbing again. I was losing it. "God, Derek. I thought...you, Derek..." Now I was the one who couldn't think straight. I held onto his hand as if letting it go would mean he'd disappear again. "I love you so much." I leaned over and kissed him. It was brief and he didn't kiss me back, but I didn't care. He was here.

Derek wasn't gone.

 **Reviews are always appreciated!**

*Revised 6/2017


	3. Days 6 & 7

**"Gone"**

 **Chapter Four**

That night I slept for the first time since Derek was admitted to the hospital. Granted, it wasn't comfortable sleep, and I woke up to a painful and stiff neck, but it was better than the previous few nights. I yawned as my eyes made their way over to Derek who was laying there watching me. "Morning."

I hesitated, wondering what today would bring. I wondered if he would be there with me again, if his mind would be truly present. Part of me was still on a high from the day before. I'd heard my husband say my name. He'd looked at me like he knew me, he'd held my hand. There was another part of me that was still scared. I was still terrified that I was going to lose him. Today was just the beginning. Derek wasn't out of the woods. He had a long way to go. His recovery would be anything but easy.

Derek opened his mouth, but no sound followed. I could see the gears turning as he concentrated. A hint of frustration etched itself in wrinkles upon his forehead. They faded a bit when I took his hand, patiently waiting. "Morn..ing." He finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.

My heart fluttered, and a smile immediately lit my face. I couldn't help it. Even if it was the only thing I heard him say all day, that was enough. He was still here with me. It's all that mattered. I spent the next few minutes chattering away, explaining everything I could about the accident, the last four days, his seizure, all of it. We didn't know very much about what caused his car to careen into a tree head on at what appeared to be a fairly high speed, but I told him what we did know. He deserved to know the truth. I knew there probably wasn't going to be a better time, and I hoped that knowing would help ease his worries. The unknown was always scary, especially for someone who was struggling with basic functions.

We continued the day mostly in shifts of Derek sleeping and me talking. I never really ran out of things to say because I'd quickly realized after his accident that leaving things unsaid would kill you should something happen. I didn't ever want something to happen to Derek without him knowing how I felt about him. Sure, he knew I loved him, but I spent hours pouring everything into him. I do mean everything. I left nothing unsaid. He was obviously still struggling with speech because he didn't say much in response. I didn't mind. At some point that afternoon physical therapy came by and helped him do some exercises with his arms and legs. They weren't anything strenuous. Really, they were just small and basic movements. Derek needed those. He needed to start moving. It would help his recovery. I was elated to see that he was moving all four extremities by himself, albeit a little shaky and slow. It was still unclear what the long-term damage from his traumatic brain injury would be. A TBI was a tricky thing. I was relieved that he made it through the day seizure free, and I just hoped the meds would keep him that way. He didn't seem to be in a tremendous amount of pain, but I knew that was in large part due to the enormous amount of narcotics he was still on.

"You look tired," He startled me that evening with his first sentence since the accident. I laughed and nodded.

"You know hospitals. Crappy places," I teased, wanting to cry when I saw a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Mer," I could almost hear the lecture that was about to come, and I cut him off before he could even get started, shaking my head. "I'm not leaving, so don't waste your breath. I'm fine. I'm not walking out of here until you do." When he opened his mouth again, I gave him a stern look. "I'm serious, Derek."

He sighed, closing his eyes. I could tell fatigue was threatening to yank him away from me again. "Maybe tomorrow," I said it just in hopes I could get him to stop worrying about me. "If you're doing well tomorrow, I'll think about going home for the night."

He slowly opened his eyes and smiled. I could tell he wanted to say something, but instead he just squeezed my hand and closed his eyes again. Within minutes he was out.

Dr. Nelson showed up early the next morning. It was day six, six days since my entire world was almost stolen from me. "Morning," He smiled, immediately setting to work on a complete neurological exam.

I winced for Derek when he removed the bandage to check the surgical site. I wasn't sure I would ever get used to seeing the clear evidence that his head had been drilled into, sawed open, and replaced again. My stomach clenched when he groaned.

"Surgical site looks great, Derek." Dr. Wellen was already replacing the bandage. "Probably not up to your standards, but I'm pretty pleased."

Derek almost laughed. In fact, his shoulders pulled a bit and there was a sound that somewhat resembled a laugh accompanying the smile that crossed his face, but it all quickly faded into a sharp sound of pain and shut eyes.

"Deep breaths, Derek." I reached over and took his hand, brushing my thumb gently against the back of it. "It will fade." It wasn't uncommon for craniotomy patients to have some pretty intense pain with certain movements, but it didn't make it any easier to watch.

"Sorry about that." Dr. Nelson was entering some data into Derek's chart. I couldn't figure that man out. Either he was sort of anti-social, or the fact that his patient was his boss seriously freaked him out. He didn't say very much when Derek was awake, but he didn't seem to have trouble when it was just me. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"My ICP," Derek surprised both of us with the question. I glanced to Dr. Nelson.

"It's been stable. I think we can safely remove pretty much all of these shitty wires and monitors you're sporting right now."

"Dr. Nelson," I wasn't so sure it was a good idea, but Derek gave my hand a squeeze and opened his eyes, blinking a few times in what I knew was an attempt to focus his mind.

"Would be great, to have them gone. Leave..m.." He started at the ceiling, and I could tell he was struggling to remember what word he needed. I was grateful Dr. Nelson stood there patiently without interruption. "Mannitol," He paused again. "Leave...mannitol dose...alone. For..."

"Several days," Dr. Nelson finished for him, smiling. "Already one step ahead of you. We'll leave all your meds the same until this weekend, then re-evaluate. I'd like to see you out of bed at some point today, even if it's just in a chair at bedside." He turned his attention back to the computer in front of him, and I assumed he was inputting orders for the ICP monitor, chest tube, catheter, and central line to be discontinued. I figured he'd bump blood pressure checks to every four hours which meant Derek could lose the cuff around his arm and be left only with the IV, a pulse ox monitor on his finger, and chest leads to keep track of his heart rate. I was elated. I knew he'd be more comfortable and feel more like himself like that.

"Not sure I..w.." Obvious frustration crossed his face. I gently rubbed his hand, supporting and encouraging him without pressure, the way I had been the last several days. "Can't..not...sure...I...standing."

Dr. Nelson's typing fingers paused and he looked at Derek. I knew he was trying to figure out if there was a speech deficit present or if this was just a brief hiccup. "We'll make sure physical therapy is here to help." He signed out of the computer. "Derek, can you tell me where you are?"

Derek answered with closed eyes. "Hospital." His voice sounded further away. I could tell he was already tired.

"Good," Dr. Nelson seemed encouraged. "What about this lady next to you? You know her?"

"Best..." Derek sluggishly opened his eyes to look at me. I gave him a playful wink. "Best thing...in...b..best.."

I frowned. "It's okay," I whispered, my heart breaking when I saw tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "He's tired."

Dr. Nelson nodded when I glanced at him, but I could tell he wasn't convinced. "I'm going to order an MRI for this afternoon. Everything is likely fine, but lets just cover all of our bases." He headed out of the room, leaving me to reassure my husband.

"Can...can't...I..." I wiped fresh tears from Derek's cheeks, frowning when he struggled again.

"You're really tired, Derek." I whispered. "It's okay. Close your eyes. Get some sleep. We'll try again when you're rested. You're doing great." I couldn't tell if he believed me or not, but he closed his eyes and quickly drifted to sleep, so I counted that as a win.

Unfortunately his rest was short-lived. Amie, his nurse for the day, came in just a few minutes later to take all of his lines out. I took that opportunity to step out of the room and get some air. I needed a minute to gather myself. Derek had seemed lost and unsure when I stood to go, but Amie assured me it was alright. She'd be an hour or so, between discontinuing everything and giving him a sponge bath. It wasn't much, but I knew it would make him feel better to feel like he was clean. I felt like the world's worst wife as I headed to the cafeteria, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I was dangerously close to falling apart, teetering on the edge of sanity, and I didn't want to break in front of him. I wanted him to see me as a source of comfort, not as someone he needed to take care of. I wanted to give him confidence that his recovery was going well.

Hours later I was back at his bedside, relieved with the news that his MRI was as clean as we could expect. There were no bleeds, and everything looked stable, which was huge. It didn't explain his struggles with speech, but it did assure us that we didn't need to worry about a new acute brain issue. We'd still been waiting on physical therapy to come when Dr. Nelson came in with the results, and he recommended we wait one more day before trying to get Derek out of bed. He'd said it was because he wanted to make sure everything remained calm now that he was being minimally monitored, but I wondered if there was something else he was concerned about. I didn't question him. I regretted it at as soon as he left the room and Derek just stared at me. Something was wrong. My husband was here. He knew himself. He knew where we were. He knew me. But he was trapped it seemed, caught in a place where he couldn't communicate basic things. Anxiety began to rapidly take over. I began to wonder if he'd be the same man he'd been before the accident.

** GA ** GA ** GA **

 _Day seven_

"Dr. Shepherd," Trey, the physical therapist, had an edge of frustration to his voice as he struggled to catch Derek before he collapsed to the floor. I wanted to smack that annoyed look off of his face, but all I could focus on was the intensity of Derek's struggle to keep his legs underneath him. I fought back tears when he gasped, a clear indication that his pain was becoming more than he could handle. "Dr. Shepherd! I need you to help me out here."

"Deep breaths, Derek." I shot the idiot across from me a clear death glare. I really was going to slap him if he didn't shut the hell up. One thing was for sure. I wouldn't be allowing him back in this room after today. This man was here, barking orders at my husband as if he was perfectly capable of running a marathon or something. Derek was just seven days out from an accident that almost claimed his life, seven days out from his brain being operated on. This was his first time even sitting on his own, much less standing. "Do you need to sit back down?"

"He needs..."

"Shut up! Shut. Up!" I finally lost it, snapping at the moron there in the room with us. He was obviously startled because he made no attempt at saying anything. "Derek," Idiot number one was forgotten as I returned attention to my husband. "Do you need to sit back down?" I still had one arm around him, standing at his side. Trey had a physical therapy belt around his waist and there was a walker just a couple of steps away, but he was still struggling. I had a feeling these efforts would be discontinued and that he would be headed to a true rehab floor once he was stable enough. There he would be able to re-learn to walk with equipment that would give him the support he needed. Of course I hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but I was also a realist. We did not want him to fall.

"Dr. Shepherd, put your hands on the handles. It will help give you some more support." Trey positioned the walker in front of him.

I shot him another look, still waiting on my husband's response, concerned that he hadn't said anything. I watched as his chest rose and fell rapidly, frowning when I noticed how shallow those breaths were.

Derek reached out, shaking hands moving to rest on either side of the walker. His left hand closed around the handle. A deep frown creased his face as he stared at his right. Fingers stayed open, trembling, but never moved to grasp as his left hand had. "Mer..."

"He needs to sit down." I could tell he was overwhelmed. It was clear he was shutting down. He had me freaking out about the asshole there, scrutinizing every move he made, Trey barking orders and ignoring his obvious distress, a clear problem with his breathing, pain evident on his features, and now it seemed as if his hand wasn't cooperating either. "Derek, how's your breathing?" I reached over and grabbed the pulse ox monitor that had been left behind, placing it back on his finger as I watched his breaths become more and more rapid.

"My hand." I watched as he stared at his still open fingers. Every so often a couple of them would twitch as if they were going to work, then, nothing.

"Derek." My voice became more forceful when I saw the numbers on the screen. Eighty percent oxygenation. Something was wrong. "Derek, I need you to look at me. How is your breathing?"

He finally seemed to register the question. "Hurts," He mumbled. "Need, need to sit."

Before I could respond, he was crashing toward the floor, gasping. Alarms started screaming at us from machines. The surgeon in me somehow snapped into gear, one hand slamming into the red button on the wall as my other hand grabbed Derek's arm. I was thankful Trey reacted quickly enough to keep him from hitting the tile underneath us. It was the one good thing he'd done. "Derek!" Things seemed to suddenly move in slow motion. Two nurses and an on-call doctor were almost immediately at our sides, and Derek was back in his bed before I was even sure how he got there. I watched in horror as he sputtered and gasped, trying desperately to suck in what little air he could get. His oxygen levels continued to plummet, and for a second I wondered if he was going to have to be tubed.

"Left lung is collapsed." The on-call doctor, one I had never met before, grabbed the chest tube tray from the nurse who seemed to have grabbed it out of thin air. She'd obviously anticipated that this might be the issue. "Stay with us, Dr. Shepherd." She looked young. I wondered for a moment if she was a first year, but I was too shocked to even ask. "Deep breaths. I know it's hard. We're going to put a chest tube in to open your lung back up. This isn't going to be the most comfortable thing in the world. I apologize ahead of time. I'll try to be as quick as I can. Once we're done you will feel much better."

I doubted Derek was listening to anything she was saying, but I appreciated her effort to involve him and at least treat him like he was a human being. "Dr. Nelson needs to be paged." I moved to the head of Derek's bed so that I was out of the way, my hand moving to rest on his shoulder. I positioned myself so I could whisper in his ear, hoping I could keep him calm and somewhat distracted. "I'm right here, Derek. We're going to get you stabilized. You're going to be fine."

Watching them place the chest tube was brutal. I wasn't sure I could ever look at the procedure the same way again. Derek's yell of pain was almost unbearable to hear, and I wiped tears from my eyes. I was relieved when it was finally in place and he was stable again. The pain medication he was given afterwards pulled him into a restful sleep, and for that I was grateful.

"How's he doing?" Alex interrupted my half sleep an hour or so later. I yawned, glancing at the clock before looking over. I shrugged.

"Heard his lung collapsed again." I knew he could tell I was upset, because he remained there in the doorway, probably so he could bolt if I snapped.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Something's wrong with him, Alex." I continued when I saw the questioning look in his eyes. "He's still forgetting words, not talking much, getting confused, he had another seizure last night. They adjusted his meds so hopefully it won't happen again, but his hand isn't working. He couldn't close his fingers when he was trying to stand."

"Meredith." Alex frowned. "He has a traumatic brain injury. You can't predict a TBI recovery. It takes time. He should be dead."

"Helpful."

He shook his head, stepping further into the room. "Shepherd will be fine. He just needs time."

"What if he isn't?" I couldn't stop tears from forming in my eyes. "What if he's never the same? What if he's never..."

"Then you find a new normal," Alex shrugged as if it wasn't any big deal. Except it was. It was a big deal if Derek wasn't Derek. I felt an emptiness beginning to slowly take over. I didn't know if I could do this. "Meredith, you and Derek love each other. Even if he's not who he was before the accident, you will still love each other. This is your new normal. Either you take Derek the way he is now, and figure out how to be happy with that, or you walk away and don't have him at all."

"When did you get so smart?" I mumbled, not missing the smile he gave me.

Alex glanced down when his pager went off. "I'll be back."

I sighed when he left, glancing over at Derek who was starting to stir. I didn't say anything when he opened his eyes. Instead, I waited for him to make the first move.

Silence stretched. "Sorry I scared you," He whispered.

Four words. He'd put four words together. That was huge. I half laughed, half cried, and wiped more tears from my eyes. "You like to keep me on my toes. At least I can say I'm not bored." I teased with a playful wink. "How are you feeling?"

Derek seemed to concentrate on my question before he responded. Maybe he was just taking a mental inventory of how his body felt, but I suspected the long pause was the result of his continue struggle to communicate. "Can breathe, better."

"Chest tubes are magic." I smiled and reached over to take his hand, but my smile faded when I noticed the glassy look in his eyes. "Derek, how's your pain?"

"Hurts," He answered that one pretty fast.

"I'll see if Amie can get you something." I glanced at the clock. "Should be okay. You're due for pain meds in half an hour."

I knew when he didn't stop me that he must really be hurting. Relief took over when the pain meds were finally on board and he was able to give me somewhat of a smile. I hoped that the days following would bring Derek some much needed progress. He needed some success.

 **I can't thank you guys enough for all of the positive feedback. Every review is motivation to write! Please continue to let me know what you think.**

*Revised 6/2017


	4. Days 14-18

" **Gone"**

 **Chapter Six**

 **Meredith POV**

Another week went by, bringing with it much-needed progress to Derek's recovery. We'd finally been moved out of the room in the ICU and had been enjoying one on the step-down unit for the last three days. Derek's chest tube had been removed and he was off all monitors. I guessed we'd probably be going home in the next day or two, but I didn't know for sure.

Derek was still having periodic seizures despite continued medication adjustment. His right hand was both better and worse. Sometimes he had complete control over it. There were other times, though, when he couldn't move it much at all. When his stress was low and other things weren't going on, his talking was better. When it was just the two of us, he seemed to be able to communicate fairly well. I had quickly figured out that he could really only focus on one thing at a time. Anything else was too much for him. As far as standing and walking, there were small inches of progress. He could stand with the walker, and he could take steps. I counted it all as victory. My husband should be dead. Instead he was here. His memory was intact, he was talking, walking, and hell, he'd even flirted with me a few times. I held onto hope that over time he would regain everything else. More than anything, I wanted his hand to come back to life. I wanted Derek to be able to be a surgeon again. He deserved that. Derek would be lost without his career.

"You still planning on trying to get Dr. Nelson to break you out of here today?" I looked over at him the morning of the fourteenth day.

"Would be nice to get home," Derek glanced at the food on the tray in front of him. "Did you eat?"

"No, but you should." I smiled, glancing at the food in front of him. "At least it looks edible this time."

Derek laughed. God, I would never get tired of hearing him laugh. "Not sure I can eat."

I couldn't even be frustrated with him when he refused the food. "Derek, I think you've lost two shirt sizes just since you got here. If you're not careful, you're going to disappear."

"I'll eat..."

I frowned a bit when he struggled for the simple word.

"Eat...lunch. I'll eat lunch. I..promise."

"I'm going to hold you to it." As always, I didn't acknowledge his struggle.

"Know you will." He mumbled. I watched as he yawned. "Get some sleep." I moved the food off of his bedside tray.

 **Derek POV**

I woke hours later, happy to see that Meredith was sleeping soundly on the chair next to my bed. She adamantly denied that she was wearing down, but I knew better. Her brave face was just that, a facade to hide what she was really feeling and how much she was really struggling. I worried about her. I knew her well enough to know that at some point she would snap. I sighed, staring at the clock, watching the seconds tick by. I'd been here too long. I was beyond ready to go home. I knew I would recover better in my own space. The trick was convincing Dr. Nelson of that, and Meredith for that matter.

I was beyond frustrated that my body didn't seem to cooperate with me. My hand only did what I told it to about half the time. The other half seemed like a useless waste of effort. I wondered if I would ever be a surgeon again. It weighed heavily on me, especially considering the amount of free time I had on my hands. There was a time in my life when my career had been everything. There was a time when I couldn't have survived without it. Looking at my wife sleeping next to me, I couldn't say that was the case anymore. Meredith was my world now. Sure, losing surgery would mean losing a large part of me. Should that happen, there would be a process of grief. But I would pick myself back up. I knew I could teach. I could still be a physician if I wanted to, actually. Most physicians didn't need full use of their hand. Sure, it wouldn't be the same, but it would be something. Meredith, I knew, thought I would break. I could see it in her eyes when I struggled. I knew her well. She really believed I wouldn't be okay, that somehow I would fall apart without surgery. Meredith underestimated my love for her. She underestimated how much loving her had changed me.

My thoughts were interrupted when she began to stir. I frowned, knowing she hadn't slept nearly long enough. Now that the mind-numbing pain in my head that had plagued me the first few days after my accident had decreased to a manageable pounding, I had shifted most of my worry to her. I wasn't clouded by feeling an unbearable amount of pressure and stabbing in my skull, so I was able to focus on my wife. It was a double edged sword. My recent brain surgery and TBI meant I tired easily. What would be considered a simple task to some was now often a mountain for me. I couldn't take more than half an hour, tops, of activity. I crashed if I pushed myself. And the more sleep deprived I became, the worse my symptoms. Still, I had begun in the last day or so to push myself more and more to stay awake. I couldn't keep an eye on her if I was out, couldn't make sure she was taking care of herself.

"Hey," She smiled when she saw me awake. I returned her expression.

"You still look tired." I knew it wouldn't do any good. She would still stay awake the rest of the day, still refuse to get even a moment's rest.

Meredith shrugged, like I knew she would. "I told you earlier. You don't need to worry about me right now. You have enough..."

"Meredith." My smile faded.

"I'm serious, Derek." She glanced at the clock. "Physical therapy will be here soon."

I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing with her. She was more stubborn than I was, and that was saying something. I closed my eyes, wondering if I might be able to get even a five minute rest before PT came to torture me.

It was a wasted effort, though. I was all too aware of the dryness in my mouth, so much so that I was unable to even relax. Sighing, I opened my eyes again and eyed the cup on my tray. The tray was just overlapping my bed, on my right side. I knew it was the staff's way of forcing me to practice simple and basic tasks with my bad hand. Often times, Meredith would move it to the other side. She couldn't stand to see me get frustrated when I couldn't get my hand to cooperate. This time, though, I was determined to get my own drink. Without giving myself enough time to become anxious about whether or not I could do it, I slowly reached toward the glass. I felt a sense of ridiculous pride when my fingers closed around the handle of the cup. I was grateful it had a straw. Less complicated all around. I made sure I had a good grip before slowly moving it toward me.

"Derek," Meredith noticed the moment my hand began to shake. I knew she was trying to decide if she should help me.

I appreciated that about her. She didn't want to make me feel stupid, but she also didn't want me to struggle so much that I became worse off than I already was. This time, though, it backfired. My grip loosened without warning and the cup fell next to me in the bed. I was both embarrassed and frustrated when she grabbed it before too much water could spill onto the sheets.

"Here," As always, she didn't make a big deal out of it as she held the cup for me. Meredith was honestly the best support person I could ask for. She was incredible. I took a few sips of water before motioning that I was done. I opened my mouth to thank her, but the words were stuck. This was the hardest part. I fought desperately to keep tears at bay, but they filled my eyes anyway. I just wanted to thank my wife, yet I couldn't seem to get my mind to communicate to my body. I hated this.

Meredith, as always, sat patiently. She smiled when I was finally able to whisper the two simple words. "You don't have to thank me. I love you, Derek."

** GA ** GA ** GA **

Eighteen days after his accident, Derek was finally released from the hospital. He seemed to be in good spirits despite everything, but I was a nervous wreck. Having him home meant the burden fell to my shoulders, it meant that if he fell, I was at fault. If he tumbled down the stairs and hurt himself, I was to blame. If he had another seizure and there was damage to his healing brain, that would also be on me. Surgeon or not, I was terrified. Derek was my entire world. There was no me, without him. We'd only been home an hour and I was already missing the safety net of the hospital.

Sure, there were positives about being home. We were in our own space, and I couldn't really describe how nice that was after being away for so long. There were no more people over our shoulders all the time. Derek and I could actually sleep without being interrupted by monitors or vital checks. Most of all, the man I loved was visibly relieved. A great deal of tension had rushed out of him the second we'd walked through the door. I tried to focus on that. The only thing that mattered to me was how he was. If Derek was comfortable, I would put everything else aside. Seeing a smile on his face was worth being paranoid every time I left him alone in a room.

"Meredith," Derek pulled me out of my thoughts, and I quickly forced a smile to my face as he reached across the bed to take my hand. "You should," He paused, and I was surprised to see him struggle. He'd made a lot of progress in his speech in the last few days. So long as it was just the two of us, he seemed to be almost back to normal in his communication. When others pushed and things were busy, it was a different story. He struggled then. I knew his mind knew everything from before his accident. It was the wires between that and his voice that seemed to get crossed. "Should get some sleep." He finished.

My smile faced. "I've already told you. I'm fine, Derek."

"Mer," I hated seeing the frown on his face.

I watched him for a moment, noticing his tension, the frown lines on his forehead. "I'll sleep, if you take your pain meds." I reached over, fingers gently trailing through the side of his head that hadn't been shaved for surgery. He'd begged me to just shave the other side too so it would be even, but I'd refused. I'd insisted it would grow back quickly, and argued that it would really suck if I couldn't run my fingers through the hair he had left. He'd caved, though I knew it was probably a short-lived victory on my end. Derek was easily one of the most stubborn people I'd ever met, and though I'd gotten used to that, it drove me insane that he often refused to take narcotics for what was obvious pain. In the ICU there had been no choice, not that he'd been complaining then. Regular floor was a toss-up. Sometimes he'd admitted to the intensity of his pain and had accepted meds. Other times he had flat-out refused, arguing that he hated the way they made him feel. Here at home, I already figured it would be a rare occasion for him to take it.

Derek sighed, and I smiled, knowing he was frustrated I'd used that as a bargaining chip. There was a long pause before he replied. "Okay."

I was beyond relieved. "Just your head this time?"

It surprised me when he was honest. "Yeah." He took the pills from my hand after I retrieved them from the bedside table. I helped him take a sip of his water since his left hand held them.

"Level?"

He glanced at me, and for a moment I doubted he was going to respond. "Eight."

I frowned, glancing at both of his eyes for a second. His pupils looked even. Still, eight was high for him given where he was in his recovery.

He stopped my runaway train of thoughts before it could really get started. I was grateful. "Been a long day. I'll be..." He frowned. "I..I...I'll..."

"Derek," My heart hammered against my chest. Normally his struggle with communication didn't bother me. Today it did. In this moment, it scared me to death. Immediately, I did a mental check of his medication schedule. I knew he'd received seizure meds that morning before we left the hospital. I'd given them again when we got home a few hours ago. Still, something didn't feel right. Worry was steadily creeping to panic. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed his hand beginning to tremor. It was subtle at first, then stopped. My heart stopped. He was going to seize. "Derek." I repeated his name in a desperate attempt to ground him, as if somehow keeping his attention could stop the involuntary and neurological driven action.

There was a split second when he was still and quiet, and I almost thought he was going to respond to me. He didn't. The seizure started with immediate intensity, and I scrambled off the bed, watching helplessly as his body convulsed. There was nothing I could while he convulsed. The best I could do for him as just to make sure he was safe. Furiously, I shoved tears off my cheeks. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd been seizure free. He was recovering. This was something I didn't want to face. Traumatic brain injuries could kiss my ass. I was done. I wanted the man I loved to have his life back

It seemed like an eternity but in reality it was less than a minute before his body was still. Relief washed over me. My heart screamed at me to launch myself at him, to touch him, to hold him, to demand to prove he was okay. Logic prevailed, though, and I took a tentative step toward the bed before slowly sitting down. His eyes were glassy, and I wasn't sure he even noticed me at first. Silently, I reached over and took his hand. He didn't flinch. "I'm here, Derek." My voice was a whisper. He was still, and I took that opportunity to feel his pulse at his wrist, glancing at the clock. Normal. I sighed, letting his arm go. I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand, forcing a smile to my face when he finally looked over at me. The intensity of his pain was written so clearly across his face.

"Mer," His voice was just barely a whisper, and I immediately shifted so I was laying next to him.

"Sleep." I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere." I could tell he wanted to say something, but exhaustion and misery won. He closed his eyes. I gently trailed fingers through his hair. "I love you, Derek." I whispered after he fell asleep. "We're going to get through this. I'm going to get you through this." I hoped my promise wasn't an empty one. One thing was for sure; I wouldn't stop fighting for him until he was back to normal. I would never rest. I would give my life for this man. I would give my life every day if it meant he had his back.

Sunlight broke through the window early the next morning, interrupting my sleep. I yawned and shifted, glancing over at the clock before I rolled to face Derek. He was still sleeping. "Derek," I hated to wake him, but I didn't want him to get behind on his meds. "Derek," I whispered his name again after grabbing his pills and a glass of water from the bedside table.

He stirred, and my heart warmed when he gave me an immediate smile. The miserable look he'd held the night before seemed gone, and I held out hope that his pain wasn't too bad. Today would be a better day. Today had to be a better day. There would be no seizures. "Morning," He whispered, taking the pills without complaint.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm...good." He sat up, slowly. I resisted the urge to reach out and help him. He hated when I took away what little independence he had at the moment. "What time is it?"

I smiled when he managed to get to a seated position on his own, and was honestly impressed when he stayed that way without even a hint of a wobble. "Just after six. Apparently we were both pretty tired."

"Glad you slept."

I couldn't resist leaning over to kiss him. This man still made my heart flutter, and I knew I was blushing when he eagerly returned my kiss.

"I love you, Derek."

I would never, never grow tired of hearing him say that. I gave him another quick kiss before forcing myself to get up. "Are you hungry? I'm going to hop in the shower then see if there's something to eat around here."

Derek groaned, protesting my leaving. I leaned over and put my pillow behind his back so he could sit comfortably. I laughed. "Miss me already?" I teased with a playful wink.

"Always."

I almost gave up the idea of a shower and food. Almost. Then I remember Derek would need pain meds soon, and he couldn't take those on an empty stomach. "I'll make it fast." He reached for my hand and I laughed as I jumped back, knowing if he pulled me down next to him, I wouldn't get back up.

I almost felt normal as I stepped into our shower. We were at home. I'd woken up next to Derek. He sat up and flirted with me like it was any other day. We'd kissed, really kissed. It was almost as if the accident had never happened. I wanted to bottle these moments up and keep them forever. The seizure from the evening before had scared me to death. Today was a reminder that things could change rapidly with a traumatic brain injury. One minute Derek seemed far way. The next minute it was as if he had never left. I would do anything, and I meant anything, to keep this Derek here with me today.

As I was shampooing my hair, I decided he deserved to have something special for his first real meal back at our house. He hadn't been hungry yesterday, so I knew he had to be starving. Our cabinets and refrigerator were pretty bare considering how long we'd been gone. When you combined that with the fact that I was a really crappy cook, it was a simple decision. I would call Alex. We need a STAT order of takeout delivered. I would love nothing more than to carb load with pancakes and syrup. Derek, however, would pissed if I handed him that. I'd order him an omelet.

"Derek?" I knew it was stupid to worry when I got out of the shower, but ten minutes away from him seemed like an eternity given everything that was going on.

"Still alive." I laughed at his response. Coming home was the best thing that had ever happened. My Derek was back.

 **I can't thank you guys enough for the follows, favorites, and reviews! Seeing someone write that I was one of their favorite authors on here was seriously such an honor. And I have to say, it creates quite a bit of pressure when you know someone thinks you're a good writer. As I've edited these last few chapters, I've merged some. I have no idea what that means for reviews. Hopefully it doesn't mess them all up. Please keep reviewing.**

*Revised 6/2017


	5. Weeks 4-5

**Surprise! Because mandyg67 told me three times she really was looking forward to more of this story, this update is just for her. The first part of this was previous published, but the second half is brand new. I will alternate between updating this and editing the older stories I have.**

 **"Gone"**

 **Chapter Eight**

Over the next two weeks, Derek made a lot of progress. He was walking independently, and was generally able to be on his own without much help when it came to daily tasks. His hand was improving greatly as well. It had been days since he'd struggled to use it. Sometimes I noticed his right side was still weaker than it had been prior to his accident, but I wasn't sure an outsider would notice it unless they were really spending a lot of time with him. He had a difficult time with the stairs due to the complexity of the movements, but it was the only thing that I still helped him with. Brain surgery meant he still had a lot of swelling and tired easily, so he was nowhere near ready to go back to work. He likely wouldn't be for quite some time. Still, we both took comfort in knowing that it was normal for this stage of recovery. He'd been seizure free for a week, and I was finally starting to believe the seizures were a thing of the past. I couldn't remember the last time he'd taken medication for pain, which meant he was down to just a couple of routine post-op meds along with his anti-seizure meds.

Communication, however, was still another story. While there were many times when he had conversations with me like nothing had ever happened, there were also times when he couldn't offer even one-word replies to basic questions. Those were the moments when I wanted to cry. It hurt me to watch him struggle. Thirty days ago my husband had been arguing with me about where we should go on vacation. Now there were times he was barely able to talk to me at all. I could tell it bothered him more and more as time passed. The only comfort I had was knowing that his mind worked. He knew the words he was looking for. He just couldn't always say them.

Despite Derek's insistence that it was a bad idea, I was still on leave. My job was probably hanging by a thread. I didn't honestly know whether it would be there when I got back or not, but then I didn't honestly care. My job was nothing if he wasn't okay. For now, I still had a place at Seattle Grace. If I went back in a week or so, I would likely still have a place there. By then I hoped Derek would be okay to stay home by himself while I was on shift.

I started to allow myself to think about our future. I began to wonder what Derek's future would hold. Would he ever be a surgeon again? I had no idea. He wouldn't be medically cleared for at least another few months, and that was standard for anyone that had brain surgery. His hand would have to be fine all the time. He'd have to be completely seizure free probably for two to three months. I sighed, sitting down on the couch with my cup of coffee in hand. Who was I kidding? Two months would be a bare minimum. Dr. Nelson would probably say it needed to be three, minimum. And there was no way Derek would risk operating unless he knew for sure that it was safe for him to do so. Three months seemed like an eternity considering everything. There was a part of me that doubted we would ever see that. That same part of me often allowed so much doubt to creep in. Would my husband ever be the same man again? Would he ever walk through the hallways of Seattle Grace after saving someone's life? Would he be the person that was called when other surgeons insisted that a tumor was inoperable? I didn't know; that was the hardest part. I didn't know who Derek was going to be now. It was terrifying.

"Mer?"

His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and my gaze left the cup in my lap. I glanced over to him, surprised to see a concerned look on his face. "How many times did you call my name?" Maybe I had been more lost in thought than I realized.

"Three." He smiled a bit. "Maybe four."

"Sorry." I scooted over so he could sit down next to me. Though he'd been doing it several days, it was still an incredible feeling to watch him do it on his own. "How's your head?"

"I'm fine, Mer."

"I know you're fine." I frowned. "But I still want to know if your head is feeling okay."

He sighed. I wondered if I'd pushed him too far. I was relieved when he reached over and took my hand. "Not bothering me now."

I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, smiling. "In other words, you're ready to go help me clean this house?"

Derek laughed. I would never, never get tired of hearing that sound. "Okay, so maybe not quite yet?"

"Rain check." He grinned and leaned over, brushing his lips over the top of my ear.

I shuddered, turning toward him. "Derek." My voice was a lustful whisper I barely recognized. He looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"Yes, Meredith."

I couldn't help but laugh at his playful flirting. "This isn't going to lead to a productive day of house cleaning." Then we were both laughing. It felt good. It felt right, being there in his arms. Flirting and kissing were normal things for us. We needed more of that.

"Cleaning can wait." He insisted, pulling me close to him.

I kissed him, only moving my lips from his when I needed air. "You say that," I whispered, reaching up to trail fingers through his hair. "Because you're not the one that has to do it."

"I would." He insisted. Suddenly the playful expression in his eyes was gone. just like that, my heart skipped a beat. Hearing his words was painful. "If I could, I would."

"I know." I frowned, faltering. I didn't know what to say. I felt terrible for ruining our moment. "I'm sorry, Derek. "

"I want my life back."

The words were like a brick crashing into a floor of glass. My heart shattered. Silence hung heavy in the air between us. It was the first time he'd said something like that. I ran every moment of the last month back through my mind. Derek had been strong, stoic, even in the moments that were awful. He'd been brave and positive. I'd knowing this moment would come eventually, but I thought I would be better prepared for it. I thought I would know what to say. I was wrong. Tears threatened, and I forced them back. I would not cry in front of this man who had almost lost everything. I would not let him see me break down, not now. I opened my mouth, but no words came. What could I possibly say that could make things better?

"I've lost everything."

Hearing that made it even harder. Tears filled my eyes. "You haven't lost me." I insisted firmly. "I'm here, Derek. And I will always be here, no matter what. I know this is hard, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could take your place. I would do anything. I..." I wiped tears from my cheeks. "Your seizures have stopped. Your hand is better. You're recovering, Derek. You are. Please, keep fighting."

"Meredith." I couldn't stand to see tears in his eyes. "Please, don't cry." He pulled me close, and I rested my head on his chest with arms wrapped around him. "Sometimes.."

I knew his pause meant words were stuck. It was always harder for him when he was upset. I didn't push him.

"Sometimes it's hard." I could tell he was getting tired. There was a sound in his voice I had gotten used to listening for.

"We're going to get through this." I insisted. "I promise, Derek. We're going to get through this. By the end of this year, we'll look back and all of this will be a memory."

"What.." He tensed, and I knew it was frustrating him that his words were stuck. There was a long pause. I didn't say anything, giving him time. "What if...it...what..." He let out a frustrated sigh. "I...I can't..."

"It's okay." I finally interjected something, gently running my hand over his arm. "It's okay, Derek. Get some sleep. We can talk about this after you have some rest."

He didn't argue. Instead he let go of me and shifted so he was leaning back with his head against the wall. I was relieved to see him relaxing. Within minutes he was asleep. I sighed with relief.

This was harder than anything I'd ever gone through. I held tight to the positive things. I'd almost lost him. He was still here with me. He was still alive. That alone was a miracle.

** GA ** GA ** GA **

"Hey, you're back!" I frowned at the overly bubbly girl in front of me, shifting my coffee to my other hand before I hit the elevator button. I was already a nervous wreck on my first day away from Derek, and April Kepner was the last person I had any patience for. If she noticed the look I gave her, she didn't mention it.

"How's Dr. Shepherd? I heard he's doing great! So glad to..."

"April," I cut her off with a sharp tone, stepping onto the elevator after the doors opened.

"I'm sorry. I know you probably have a lot to catch up on here. I just.."

"April!" How was it that she couldn't get the hint? I sighed, pressing the button for the fourth floor. "Look," I hated the look she gave me, as if somehow I had hurt her. Here she was, prying into my business and asking about my husband, and she looked at me like I was the rude one. "I'm not going to talk about Derek."

"Oh," The excited expression on her face immediately fell. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't..."

Relief washed over me when the elevator doors opened again. "Derek's off limits." I walked past her without another word.

"We still don't like her, right? Cristina caught me as I stepped off, glancing behind me to April.

I couldn't help but laugh.

Cristina must have taken that as a yes, because she didn't wait for my answer. "Your interns have been driving me insane. They're worse than mine. It's a good thing you're back."

"You had them all?"

She didn't have to look at me to read my confusion. I followed her to where the surgery board was hanging, relieved when I saw my name there. It would be rough getting back in the swing of things after being gone for so long, but I was glad the chief trusted me enough to give me a shot in the operating room. Granted, it wasn't an emergent or complicated surgery, but it was something.

"I had two. Two too many." She handed me a few charts from the nurses desk. "Post-ops. My next surgery if you take these two. Hunt offered me a spot downstairs today."

"I'll take them all." I shrugged, taking the other two charts she handed over. "My surgery isn't for another three hours. Better be a good surgery."

"Anything's good when you've been gone five weeks."

"Derek's at home, alone."

"Probably reading every surgical book he can get his hands on. Probably watching every procedure he has recorded."

"Actually," I smiled, glad for something I hadn't thought of. "That's a good idea. I can take some stuff home to him." My smile faded when I thought about how long from now that would be. "Tonight."

"Derek's fine."

"Cristina, he..."

"It's been five weeks. He's fine."

Normally she made me feel better. This time I couldn't shake a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. It didn't feel fine. It didn't feel right, being there. I felt like I needed to be with him. I was grateful when her pager went off, giving me time to make a phone call without well-meaning but frustrating comments about how my worry was misplaced. I smiled when he answered, and I'm sure my relief was obvious to anyone watching. "Hey."

"I'm still fine, Mer."

Derek knew I was paranoid, borderline obsessed. I rolled my eyes though there was a content smile on my face. "I just wanted to be sure. I had a break, before my first surgery. Just wanted to hear your voice. It's not the same without you here." I instantly regretted my last sentence. How much more insensitive could I be?

Thankfully Derek was ever the gentleman. "Kick some surgery ass, Mer. I'll see you tonight."

"Derek, promise.."

"I'll call you if I need you. You don't have to worry, though. I'm fine."

I sighed, hesitating, but ultimately decided I had to trust what he said. I had to focus on my job, and I didn't want him to feel like I was parenting him or hovering over his every breath. It would just stress him out, and stress lead to bad things for my husband. I hung up after a moment, whispering that I loved him after the call ended. I needed to get a grip. Problem was, I didn't know how.

The universe saved me that morning. A multiple victim car crash interrupted everything, pushing back my elective surgery and landing me in the emergency department just minutes after getting off the phone. I was relieved, and grateful, that two of the patients were critical. I desperately needed that distraction. I needed something to put my energy into, something that wasn't paranoid thoughts about the man I loved.

My patient ended up taking up the next four hours of my time. I didn't get a chance to even think about Derek again until I was sitting in the PACU finishing up post-surgical notes, watching to see if the forty year-old father of three was going to regain consciousness. The surgery had gone well, and I had to admit it was nice to be back in the operating room. It was nice to feel a sense of normalcy again.

It was short-lived, though, when I glanced at an unread text and two missed calls. They were all from Derek. My heart hammered sharp staccato beats against my chest. The text made no sense at all. Just a couple of random letters, and I immediately struggled to keep the room from tilting on its side. I sunk down into the chair behind me, panicked when I saw he hadn't left a message. Shaky hands dialed his number, and I willed him to pick up as I listened to it ring over and over again. Tears slid down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Derek never answered, and I grabbed the closest nurse I could find. I didn't remember working with her before. If I had, I couldn't remember her name. Maybe that's because my mind was too busy running through possibilities of what might have happened with my husband. "Tell Dr. Webber I had a family emergency and that I had to go. He can call me. Tell him I'll call him. I have to go. Page the on-call neuro resident if there's a change with Mr. Stratton." I was out of there before giving her a chance to respond. I didn't care if the chief even got the damn message. I raced home without regard for anything but speed. I had to get home. I had to get to my husband, to see that he was alright. It didn't feel like he was alright.

Every fear I had been unable to voice, every nightmare I'd refused to give voice to became reality when I walked through our front door. I didn't get four feet in, I barely had the front door closed before seeing him. "Derek!" I didn't recognize my own voice as I screamed his name, dropping down next to him. "Derek, open your eyes. Derek!" I demanded his attention, jerking him around so he was laying on his back. "No," I could barely form coherent thoughts when I saw the glassy stare he gave. "No! Derek!" I bit back a broken sob. I forced a few cleansing breaths through a burning chest, trying to gather myself enough to remember basic triage skills. Trembling fingers immediately found a pulse at his neck, though his skin was hot and clammy. He drew in a sharp gasp when I tentatively pressed against the side of his head where his surgical incision had been. Tears flooded my vision. I barely managed to see that his pupils were reacting to the shadow I created in front of him, blocking light. They looked to be the same size though it was hard to tell through a wet gaze. His warble of pain almost killed me. "Derek," My voice was a whisper and my hand rested gently on his cheek. "It's okay. You're okay." I prayed I wasn't lying.

He stared at me a few moments longer, and I glanced at his cell phone laying nearby. He must have fallen here. Whatever had happened, this is where it had taken place. That gave me a small comfort. He wasn't near the stairs. "Seizures." He finally whispered, knowing I was waiting on some kind of explanation.

I forced myself to swallow and take a slow and deep breath before I responded. I would not act like a lunatic in front of him. I would not spin out of control. I would be strong. "It's okay." I whispered the only words I had. I needed a moment to process that. He'd been seizure free for so long. And this one must have been bad, because he still looked like he was in a daze. I glanced at the clock. Thirty-six minutes had passed since he called me. Must have been one hell of a seizure. "Just one?" I finally looked back at him, taking his hand. I carefully helped him sit up, jerking when he cried out in obvious pain. "Derek, did you hurt something?"

"Just, my...it's..."

I wanted to throw something. I needed him to talk to me, dammit! Instead he was stuck in TBI hell. I needed him to talk to me so I could help him. I tried so hard, but I couldn't stop my own tears. "Is your head the only thing hurting?" I needed to simplify things for him.

"Yes," He was visibly relieved when I gave him a more direct question, and I whimpered when he leaned against me. My arm wrapped around him, hand resting on the side of his head. I was gentle. My fingers were still trembling. "Just one? Just one seizure?"

"Two," He mumbled, and I could feel him getting heavier in my arms. My heart was ripped in half. "Did you hit your head?"

There was a long pause. I glanced down to make sure he wasn't asleep. I knew he had to be exhausted. "Don't..." His breathing became more rapid, and I wiped tears from his cheeks. "Think...so...don't."

"Okay, it's okay. Shhh." I held him close, letting him drift off a bit in my arms. I sat there with him until I trusted myself to continue without emotion clouding everything. There would be plenty of time later for me to break down. It was a struggle, but I managed to get him to the couch and got pain pills and an extra dose of seizure meds down him. He was asleep quickly, and I took the opportunity to call Dr. Nelson. Relief flooded over me when he answered. If he was as terrified as I was, he didn't sound it. I didn't know if that made me feel better or not. We made a plan to go in that evening for an MRI, just to be sure. He trusted my triage skills enough that he didn't think I needed to call an ambulance, and we both agreed that if Derek got a chance to sleep for a few hours he would likely be able to walk to the car on his own. I hung up the phone without really knowing how I felt. After sending a quick text to the chief I sat down next to the couch and watched my husband sleep.

 **Review, pretty please!**

*Revised 6/2017


	6. Stuck in Week 5

**Turns out I couldn't step away from this story, so here's another update! I haven't had much feedback on this lately, so I hope someone out there is still reading and enjoying this fic.**

" **Gone"**

 **Chapter Six**

Our planned turned out to be useless. The medications I'd given Derek had kept him in a peaceful slumber for just over an hour before he woke up with the most intense look of pain I'd seen in weeks. His eyes had shut almost as quickly as they'd opened, and I was already standing as he reached for my hand. He didn't have to tell me something was wrong. I could see it, written so clearly across his face. My stomach twisted painfully, a sense of dread settling within me. "Derek," I grabbed my phone and my keys. "We need to go to the hospital."

"No," I heard the panic in his voice, and more than anything I wanted to tell him we didn't have to. It was my job, though, to care for him. This man was counting on me. "Please."

I forced back tears as I knelt down next to him, taking his trembling hand in mine. "Derek," I moved one hand to rest gently against his cheek. "What's your pain level?"

"T..ten. It…"

A tightness filled my chest. Something was wrong, so very wrong. "I called Dr. Nelson. He wanted you to come in tonight for a CT scan. You've had two seizures today, Derek, and they were bad. You have a severe headache, your communication is getting worse, you're sensitive to light…" I gave him a second to digest what I was saying. I hoped the surgeon in him would take over and his own logic would agree with me. I didn't want to take him to the hospital against his wishes.

"It's," I watched as he struggled to say something. I tried to give him time, though my mind was screaming at me to drag him off the couch and into the car. "Bleed…it's…probably…chr…"

"Chronic subdural hematoma." I finished for him, because quite frankly, I felt like every second that passed was one second closer to him dying right there on our couch. "Which is why we need to go, now. Please, Derek."

Relief washed over me when he nodded ever so slightly. I brushed tears from my eyes when he groaned. "It's going to be okay, Derek." It took some work on both our parts, but I managed to get him out to the car. We arrive at Seattle Grace in almost record time, and I felt a tiny bit of my anxiety disappear once he was settled on a bed in the emergency department. Dr. Nelson had already put in orders for his scan, saving us hours in wait time. I admittedly was grumpy and short with the nurse who tried to go down her list of admitting procedures, but I didn't care. I scribbled my name across consents as fast as I could, and as soon as she'd placed the IV in his arm, I demanded we go to CT.

"Dr. Shepherd." She frowned, glaring at me with clear annoyance at my entitled behavior. "There are, policies that we.."

"Policies." If looks could kill, she'd be dead. "Screw your policies, Amanda. I'm taking him to CT. If there's a problem, tell someone else. Make sure they know it's the head of neurosurgery you're talking about. And then, you let me know how that conversation went. I'll be back in…twenty minutes. Should give you plenty of time."

I was impressed when she stepped out of the way, though I half expected her smack me as I wheeled Derek out of the room and to the elevator. My privilege, unfortunately, only got me so far. As soon as Derek was settled in radiology, I was kicked out. I'd protested and even demanded I be allowed to stay, but Dr. Nelson was firm and unyielding. "I'll bring him back downstairs as soon as the scan is over."

My nerves were shot. I sat in the room downstairs, staring at the clock as seconds ticked by. I leaned forward, resting my head in my hands, my foot tapping rhythmically against the tile under my flats. "Damn traumatic brain injury. Damn car accident." I mumbled as tears flooded my vision.

I was thankfully put out of my paranoid misery just a half hour later, though it seemed like an eternity. "So?" I practically leapt up from my seat, glancing at Derek for only a brief moment before turning my attention to Dr. Nelson. I ignored Amanda's glare as she hooked Derek's IV fluids back up and gave him something to take the edge off his headache. She didn't take her frustrations out on him, so I let her attitude go. Derek's hand found mine, and I gave it a gentle squeeze.

Dr. Nelson gave me a nervous smile, and I was immediately grateful for the chair behind me. He gracefully waited until I sat down. "Chronic subdural hematoma."

I felt the air leave me. My hold on Derek's hand tightened. "How big?" I didn't want to watch Derek go through another open craniotomy. I couldn't watch him suffer through that again.

Dr. Nelson popped the scans up on the light on the wall in front of us. He pointed out the blood, though we all recognized it immediately. I glanced at Derek, frowning. His closed eyes meant his pain was so intense it was overriding his basic instincts as a surgeon. Normally my husband would insist on seeing the scans himself. Normally he wouldn't trust someone else to read them. Derek always wanted to make decisions for himself, and even after the accident he had given his opinion as soon as he was coherent. I sighed. "It's small enough that I think we're okay to try burr holes first. I've got them working on a room upstairs. If all goes well, it shouldn't require you guys to be here more than four or five days."

I tried not to panic. I forced myself to take a couple of slow deep breaths in an attempt to bring my heart rate down. Dr. Nelson's nonchalant delivery of this news angered me. We were talking about blood in my husband's brain. We were talking about drilling holes into his skull. There was nothing casual about this. Tears slid down my cheeks. This time I didn't try to wipe them away. "Derek?" I looked to him for reassurance. I needed to know he was okay with this. I needed to know if this was the right decision. The surgeon in me was gone. Here, in this moment, I was just Derek's wife. I felt clueless, and scared. I needed Derek to tell me what to do. He had to open his eyes and tell me this was okay.

I watched as he forced his eyes open. He blinked a few times, a glassy gaze making obvious how miserable he was. He didn't look at me with any clarity, and his gaze didn't travel to the scans on the wall. He stared at me, almost as if he didn't understand what I was looking for. I felt like such an awful person. I felt like I was failing him. "Please," More tears fell, coming faster than they had before. "Derek, please. I…I don't, I don't know…I.." Hyperventilation was coming rapidly. I didn't want to break down in front of him, but I couldn't seem to pull myself back.

Confusion faded, and Derek blinked several times more. "It's, Mer…" He squeezed my hand as I bit back a sob. "It's okay. It's…burr…it's…" I could tell he was struggling. Guilt ate at me. "Yes." He finally managed.

I knew what he was trying to say. We'd had this song and dance, the guess the words, enough now that I was pretty good at deciphering his broken language. I leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Okay," I almost broke down again when he reached out to brush tears from my cheeks. I moved my hand to run over his hair, hair that had just grown back and would now be gone again. "It's a good thing you're sexy half bald."

Derek's eyes twinkled, and he almost laughed. I captured that moment, placing a snapshot of it in my mind. I would need it if we were going to get through this. With any luck, things would go smoothly and his symptoms would be gone in the next couple of hours, but a procedure on your brain was still a procedure on your brain. I was a nervous wreck.

My husband, on the other hand, was so strong. He was stoic. I was so grateful. Derek didn't complain. He didn't question. He didn't cry. Derek was quiet, and rested peacefully while Amanda prepared him to go upstairs. I winced for him when she put a catheter in, when she started a second IV line in case there was an emergency, and when she shaved away hair on one side of his head. Through it all, he remained relatively unresponsive save a couple of sharp breaths. I knew the pain in his head must be unrelenting and it must be beyond difficult to be so vulnerable and exposed, but he never complained. He held my hand, and we alternated rubbing thumbs over the skin on the back of each other's hands. My husband was incredible. He was stronger than anyone I'd ever known. I would have given anything, in those moments, to trade places with him.

Peace didn't last long though, and we were upstairs before I knew it. Derek's stoic façade began to crumble as we entered the operating room. After scrubbing in, I was situated on a chair at his left side, holding on to his hand. Normally it wouldn't be allowed, but I'd made it very clear that I wasn't going to leave him. I was a surgeon. I knew the importance of protecting the sterile surgical field. Dr. Nelson and I had discussed anesthesia options, and ultimately I'd agreed with his recommendation against general anesthesia. The drugs needed to completely knock someone out had a tendency to raise intracranial pressure, and adding a ventilator to the mix again was better left avoided. General anesthesia was harder to recover from, and we agreed it was just better all around to try to do this with twilight and local anesthetic. The burr hole procedure itself took only half an hour or so, and it could be done either way. It really came down to surgeon preference and the circumstances leading to the need for the holes in the first place. If complications arose, Derek would need to be knocked out completely.

The room was freezing, and I shivered, frowning when I saw Derek's bare feet. "Carly, can you get him some socks?" My question was directed at second scrub nurse in the room. I knew he'd get several blankets once they had him settled, but I just couldn't stand the thought of him cold. I brought Derek's hand my lips, gently kissing it when I noticed the pattern of his breathing change. He was scared. Tears threatened again. "Hey," I got his attention, forcing a smile when his eyes met mine. I was grateful they hadn't immobilized his head yet. I knew it had to be terrifying to be on the other side of this surgery. "I'm here, Derek. I'm right here. It's going to be okay. You're doing great. This is going to be over before you know it. You're going to do so well, then you can sleep." I reached out and brushed a tear from his cheek. "I love you, so much. You can do this."

Derek clung to my hand, and I could tell he was no longer trying to hide his fear. "Meredith."

He said my name like a plea, like I could snatch him up and take him away from all of this. I wished so desperately that I could. "It's going to be over soon, Der. I promise. I'm here. I'm not leaving you. It's okay."

Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Dr. Nelson spoke first. "Derek, Carly's going to give you something to help you relax. It may or may not make you sleep. If it isn't enough, let us know and we'll go a different route. Close your eyes, rest. I'll talk you through all of this. Once the local anesthetic is in, you shouldn't feel anything. You let us know if you do, and we'll fix it. The sound is the worst part of this. If it's too much for you, we can put you under."

"I love you," Derek whispered. I was so thankful I heard those words before powerful drugs stole him from me. I watched as Dr. Nelson and his resident gowned up, sterile field being of utmost importance. My gaze wandered to the drill on the surgical table, and I had to force myself not to puke. For the first time I truly thought about what was about to take place. They were about to put holes in Derek's head. I wondered for a second if I was going to pass out. Dr. Nelson must have noticed my discomfort, because I found him looking at me. He opened his mouth, but must have changed his mind about saying whatever it was, because he quickly closed it again. The silence was deafening, and I was actually grateful when I heard the clattering of the device they would use to immobilize Derek's head during the procedure. It looked worse than it was, really, and it was actually one of the most crucial tools for this operation. If Derek's head moved at all, the results could be catastrophic.

Derek's hand was suddenly heavy in mind, and I smiled with relief at the obvious sign of his relaxation. I couldn't tell if he was completely asleep, but I didn't test him either. I didn't want to interrupt whatever state he was in. However it was that he was disconnected from this, that was important. If I had to hear sounds of drills and drains going into my brain I would pass out. I wanted him protected from as much of that as possible.

"Derek," Dr. Nelson did what all wonderful surgeons did. He talked my husband through everything despite the twilight anesthesia given. "We're going to get your head immobilized, and then I'm going to wipe your skin down with an antiseptic. It will be cold."

I intentionally diverted my gaze, releasing a breath I didn't know I'd been holding when Carly put the drape up that would separate the surgical field from the rest of Derek's face. I could no longer see what they were doing. It was an incredible sense of relief.

"Meredith," Dr. Nelson looked over the curtain after a few moments. "He's pretty much out, and I need to ask you to leave now."

"Dr. Nelson."

"It's hospital policy, Meredith." He insisted firmly. "We will all work better without you here. Family members in the operating room is a bad idea."

"Please," My heart sank. I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave Derek alone. I wanted to stay right where I was and keep holding his hand through this. "Dr. Nelson, please. Don't make me go."

I could tell I almost wore him down, but in the end he was unrelenting. "I'll come get you in an hour or so, once we have him in the ICU."

I wanted so badly to argue. I wanted to scream, to throw something, or to cross my arms and refuse to move. But when Derek's hand shifted in mine I worried he would wake up. With tears in my eyes, I slowly kissed his hand before heading out of the room.

** GA ** GA ** GA **

Derek's surgery went as well as we could hope for, and within an hour I was back at his side, waiting for him to break free from the hold of narcotics and other drugs used while he was in the operating room. Dr. Nelson had been able to drain the blood quickly enough that he didn't feel leaving the drains in place was necessary, and I was relieved. Derek sported a completely unsexy bandage around his head to help protect the surgical incisions from infection, but I still thought he was the most handsome man I'd ever laid eyes on. I reached out, from habit, to run fingers through black curls. A frown settled on my face as I stopped short, hindered by the surgical dressing. I already missed his hair. I settled for pressing my lips gently on his forehead, taking his hand as I settled back into the chair.

His eyes fluttered just minutes later, and my frown turned into a tiny hint of a smile. I knew we weren't completely in the clear until he was awake and interacting without cognitive deficits, or as best he could considering his TBI still loomed. "Hey there," His eyes met mine, and I knew he recognized me despite his quiet. "You're in the ICU. You did so well, Derek. There were no complications." I wondered how much he remembered, just how aware he'd been through it all, but I didn't pressure him. I did, however, take note that he wasn't desperate to shut his eyes again. Hope swelled within me. A successful burr hole procedure would mean the blood accumulating in his brain had been evacuated, releasing the pressure that was building there and causing his seizures and pain. If he was looking at me without intense reaction to the lights above, that was a really good sign.

"ICP," His whisper brought a laugh from deep within my belly, and I swiped tears from my cheeks as I glanced over at one of the machines next to his bed, finding the number that monitored the pressure in his brain.

"Stable. Everything looks great. How are you feeling?"

He seemed to hesitate, and for a moment I had to remind myself that the burr holes weren't going to fix everything. "Tired."

I was satisfied with that answer. Exhaustion was one of the main complaints patients had following any procedures to the brain, so despite how much it sucked, it was a good sign that he seemed to be following what we'd expect from any other patient. "What about pain?" I doubted he would stay awake much longer, and I wanted to be sure he really was okay before he dozed again.

"Three," His voice was softer this time, and I was disappointed when his eyes closed. I missed him so much.

"Three is good." I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand. "Sleep, Derek. I'm not going anywhere. You're doing so well." I watched the rise and fall of his chest, sighing when I could tell he was out again.

Dr. Nelson didn't come to check on him again for another couple of hours. By then my content at a successful procedure was starting to fade, replaced with worry. I wanted Derek awake. I wanted him talking to me. I wanted to see his smile again. I wanted him to flirt with me. I wanted to know that we hadn't taken one giant step backwards. Guilt gnawed at me. I'd known that morning something was wrong. I'd had a feeling before I ever left the house, but I'd ignored it. I didn't want to be the crazy wife. I let people tell me I was just being paranoid. I let Derek tell me I was just being paranoid. I'd slammed the door on my own instincts, and I'd left him alone when I knew I shouldn't. He could have died had I not seen his text and missed calls.

"How's our patient?"

Dr. Nelson's voice pulled me from my own self-pity. I wasn't sure if I was grateful or not. "He woke up a couple of hours ago, but nothing since."

As if he could sense my rising panic, he gave me a smile. "I'm sure Derek taught you exhaustion is normal and expected following a craniotomy or burr hole procedure. I'd be surprised if he wasn't sleeping."

I sighed, glancing back at my husband. "I know, I just, I want to be sure he's okay. We were finally getting to a good place, Dr. Nelson. He was finally getting his life back. Now we're right back where we started, and I don't know if I can watch him start over."

"Meredith," Dr. Nelson frowned, clearly surprised at my willingness to share such raw fear with him. We'd talked a lot through all of this, but really on a superficial level. I hated letting people in. "This hematoma doesn't mean he's back to square one. I was able to completely drain it, and he looks great. My best guess is that his headaches and seizures will be a thing of the past now. It's highly likely the transient seizures were due to the slow bleed."

"I hope you're right." Just as quickly as I'd opened up vulnerability between us, I shut it down. I was done talking.

I watched as Dr. Nelson spent a few minutes checking the surgical site and all monitors before he gently woke his sleeping patient. "Derek, it's Dr. Nelson. I'm sorry to interrupt your nap. Just need to do a quick check, then I'll leave you alone until morning."

Derek didn't stir. I reached over and gently ran my hand up and down his arm. "Derek," I whispered, then a little louder. "Derek, open your eyes." I smiled when he complained. "Welcome back sleepyhead."

"I was just telling your wife how pleased I was with the outcome of the surgery." Dr. Nelson smiled, placing his hands in both of Derek's. "Can you squeeze my hands?" I watched as Derek's hands closed, both of them. "Good, that's excellent." He pulled out his penlight. "Follow my pen." There was a pause as Derek complied. "Good." He dropped it back into the pocket of his scrub jacket. "How's your pain?"

"Better," Derek still sounded tired, but I was elated that everything looked good, and even more elated that he was answering questions so easily.

"Alright, one more for me and then I'll stop torturing you. Can you count backwards from ten?"

Derek glanced at me as if he wasn't quite sure. I waited, patiently, giving his hand a gentle and encouraging squeeze. "Ten," I smiled. "Nine" He continued. "Eight. S…s..se…seven." His voice warbled, and my smile faded. "You're doing great, Derek. Take your time. It's okay." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dr. Nelson's entire expression change. I did Derek the favor of not drawing attention to the critical gaze. "S…Sev…" When he repeated himself, I fought tears. "I…I c…" I finally jumped in. I would not let him get to the point of defeat. I would not let him get to the point where he became so frustrated and overwhelmed that he shut down. I'd watched that too many times. "It's okay." I insisted, firmly. "This is normal." I looked directly at Dr. Nelson who wore a skeptical gaze. "It's been normal for him since the accident. When he gets tired, his communication fades. He knows the words. He just…"

"Meredith," Dr. Nelson clearly did not believe me. "I can appreciate that you know him well. But I need him to finish these numbers for me. Otherwise, I'm afraid we probably need to get a quick scan just to make sure nothing's going on."

"Dr. Nelson, I'm telling you, he's fine."

"With all due respect, as his surgeon, I need to make that determination for myself."

That man was lucky Derek interrupted us both. "Mer," My name was a whisper across his lips. I didn't want him to see the tears in my eyes, but I couldn't help it.

"Derek, can you finish counting back from ten?" Dr. Nelson acted as if I wasn't even there. I wanted to smack him.

Derek drew in a deep breath, blinking a couple of times. It was so clear that he was struggling to stay awake. "Six," It was barely audible. There was a long pause. I contemplated shoving Dr. Nelson out the door. "F…five…" This time his eyes closed completely. "…I…I c…"

Dr. Nelson must have been finally satisfied, ass that he was, because he reached over and put his hand on Derek's shoulder. "We can try again later. Get some rest." He looked at me. "Can I speak to you outside, please?"

Reluctantly, I got up and followed him, waiting until the door closed before I said anything. "Derek is fine. He could have counted for you just fine, but he was tired, he just had brain surgery, and he's in the hospital so he's stressed. Like I said, this is normal for him. Normal. I get that you're his surgeon, but you are not the person at home with him. You do not know him now like I do."

"Meredith," Dr. Nelson sighed, and I could tell he was giving up on arguing. "If he can't count for me by morning, I'm going to order an MRI. I have to be sure. It's my job to be sure."

"Yeah, fine." I swung the door open to Derek's room before he had a chance to say anything else. "He's an ass." I caught Derek's gaze as I sat back down.

He grinned at me, reaching for my hand. I happily took it. "Get some sleep, Derek."

 **Reviews are so appreciated!**


	7. Beauty From Ashes

**Thank you for all of the reviews on the last chapter, especially those of you who consistently take the time to give feedback. I so appreciate it. I wish I could take all of you into my mind when I'm putting thoughts to paper. When I finish a chapter and am ready to publish it, it's such an incredible high. And then…bam. Reality. The next chapter is a blank page with a title at the top. I can't tell you how long I sometimes have to stare at that empty page before words start taking over. I would be lying if I said I wasn't often just a tiny bit anxious it won't happen. Anyway, long ramble to say…that's why I am grateful for the reviews. Helps those moments of crazy not be so crazy. Lol**

" **Gone"**

 **Chapter Seven**

Morning came slowly, sunlight crawling across our view to fill what had been darkness as Derek slept. I hadn't closed my eyes much, which is why I had the incredible experience of watching the sun rise for the first time in my life. It was stunning, and I was mesmerized as I watched rays dance more and more across the sky, black melting away into the most gorgeous peach and blue I think I'd ever seen. This was the view Derek loved to watch from the ferry. This is what he'd described to me so many times. I'd always pretended to share his excitement. I'd always answered with some half attentive remark, sometimes playfully giving him a hard time about how enamored he was with the simplicity of nature. In this moment, standing there at the window of his ICU room, I would have given anything to be standing on the ferry with my husband. My heart pleaded with my mind to pull up a memory of the last time we'd been there, my back pressed gently into his chest as his arms wrapped around my waist.

The memory, of course, seemed trapped somewhere in the hell that was my exhausted psyche, and I angrily brushed tears from my eyes. My hand clenched into a fist, frustration building. Everything had fallen apart. Derek, he was the sunrise. He'd always been the sunrise to me. He'd taken a dark and empty life and given it meaning. He'd pulled me out of the water when I was drowning, bringing my eyes above the surface of the deep dark blue.

We'd find a way to make life work with a new normal, we **were** finding a way to make it work, but I missed him so deeply that sometimes I thought I couldn't stand another second of it. The beautiful mosaic of colors that was the man I loved was slowly being consumed by a creeping darkness. It was like watching the sunlight fade at night. I wanted it to all just stop. I wanted to throw something, punch something, shatter the glass of that window. The window had us trapped, an angry metaphorical reminder of what my husband's new reality had become. He was lost in his own mind now, often locked away so tightly that he couldn't even tell me he loved me. I bit back a sob, one hand leaving the window ledge to cover my mouth. I missed Derek so much that it physically hurt. My stomach clenched, and I had to take a few deep breaths to center myself again, so grateful he was still sleeping so he didn't have to see me fall apart. I sunk to the floor, turning so my back pressed into the cold tile behind me. Sobs came before I could stop them, and after a moment I gave in to emotions that had been locked down since we came back to the hospital. I don't know how long I cried, but when I was done I had an odd sense of peace. A cathartic release, I'd heard people say before, and I guess that's what had just happened, because when I stood I felt ready to take on another day. I felt ready to fight another round with the man in front of me. He deserved that. I knew he couldn't do this alone.

"Hey,"

The smile I gave him wasn't forced. "Hey yourself." I sat down in the chair where I wondered if anyone actually ever slept. It was supposed to be for that purpose, though I couldn't imagine who ever thought it would serve anyone well. The recline was a joke, and it had to be just about the most uncomfortable thing I'd ever felt. Well, maybe not ever, but it sure was a close third or fourth. "Guess you were pretty tired. Haven't seen you sleep that soundly in a while."

He gave me the most beautiful grin I think I'd ever seen, though that could just have been because twelve hours earlier I'd been left wondering if it was the last time I'd ever see it. "What time?"

I wondered, for a fleeting moment, if he'd stopped there to avoid the struggle of more words. I didn't press. I didn't allow concern to creep into my expression. My face remained impassive. I would not let this man know I was still so scared. Time was the best proof. I would have to let patience pull me forward, just like I had the last five weeks. I could do this. I would do this. There was no other choice. A slow and cleansing breath settled another tense and unsettled feeling in my stomach. "It's just after six. Not quite time for rounds, though I'm sure Dr. Nelson is somewhere stalking you in the hallway, waiting for…"

Derek didn't even try to stifle his laugh when the door opened.

I smirked at him, giggling when he winked at me. God, we were like two kids in high school. I loved every second.

"Dr. Nelson."

He regarded me cooly, and I could no longer contain my own laughter. I'm sure my cheeks were fifteen shades of red from embarrassment, but Derek's continued laughter made it so worth the fact that I was making a fool out of myself in front of a colleague. I was so thankful for post-op intravenous pain meds. Demerol was a beautiful thing. Had it not been for that, I'm sure my husband would have been more aware of the pain in his head from the flurry of activity.

"You look much better than you did when I last saw you, Derek." How was it possible that someone could completely ignore this level of shenanigans around him? I shot Derek a look, daring him to keep cutting up with his surgeon standing there.

I didn't know if he caved because he could see the shade of my skin or if he was growing tired already, but his laughter died down as I took his hand. "Slept." He said simply.

Just like that, the book of fun slammed shut, reality crashing back with a resounding thud in my chest. Another one word answer. My stomach rolled again, and I unconsciously moved my free hand to rest there. I couldn't help that my smile faded into a frown. Was Dr. Nelson right? Was the continued language deficit a sign of blood still trapped in his brain? It seemed to be growing, the communication struggle, that was. I was quiet, contemplating, and for once grateful that Dr. Nelson steered the conversation and action plan.

"Your nurse told me she didn't see you stir much last night. Glad you were able to get some rest." Dr. Nelson did a quick assessment and glanced at Derek's surgical site before grabbing the stool from the other side of the room. He sat down, studying the man in the ICU bed, clearly fighting with himself about what to do next. "How about that counting? Can you count backwards from ten for me now?"

Derek's hesitation was like pulling the pin on a grenade I didn't know I was holding. Panic gripped me. The room began to spin. I felt like I was going to puke. No one noticed. My husband was too busy watching the ceiling as I assumed he tried to gather the skills needed to do as he was being asked, and Dr. Nelson was too busy watching him.

Silence stretched.

"Ten,"

I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, giving Derek's hand a gentle squeeze of support.

It felt like an eternity, but I watched the seconds click on the clock, and a little less than a minute later, Derek whispered a small victory. "One." His eyes were closed now, and I knew he was tired. My thumb brushed over the back of his hand, and I caught Dr. Nelson's gaze. "I'll be right back, Derek." I whispered, slowly releasing his hand. "Get some sleep."

I could see he wanted to protest, but he closed his eyes almost as soon as he opened them. Exhaustion was winning this fight. Derek didn't stand a chance.

I followed Dr. Nelson into the hallway after he held the door open for me.

"I told you last night that he could count." Admittedly, I wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook for the frustration he'd caused the previous evening. No matter how justified in his intentions, I didn't want that kind of pressure around Derek.

"Meredith," Dr. Nelson sighed, and I could tell he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what was really on his mind. That was fine. He could stay angry at me. I didn't care. As long as he took good care of my husband, we were good. "I wouldn't be a good surgeon if I didn't double check and triple check that things were okay with my patient. Derek's been through a lot, and I don't want there to be another setback because I tried to spare someone's feelings."

"Fair enough." I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the wall. "So?"

"I think for now, you're right. This seems to be his new normal, though I was hoping it would improve some when we addressed the bleed. I know you're hesitant that I have a good head on my shoulders…"

He gave me a pointed stare when I opened my mouth to argue. He left no room for argument. "I need you to tell me if there is even the slightest change in his affect."

"Of course." I frowned, dropping my defenses, barely. "Dr. Nelson, Derek is…he's…" I glanced back at the door behind me. "That man in there," My eyes met the gaze of the surgeon in front of me. "That mean is everything to me. I would never put his wellbeing in jeopardy, not for my own pride. I will always tell you if I think there's something off."

Dr. Nelson smiled, reaching over and briefly patting my shoulder. "If he continues to do well, we'll see about transferring him to a regular floor tomorrow morning. I should be able to discharge him Friday."

"Thank you." I breathed a sigh of relief when I sat back down at Derek's bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest that told me he was sleeping. The waves were starting to fade. The thunderous storm that had threatened Derek yet again was dissipating, and I hoped this time it was gone for good. I was ready to get back on the path of recovery.

** GA ** GA ** GA **

Friday morning brought us home a second time. Rain followed despite my pouting about the crummy weather on the first day Derek had seen the outside world in a week. Why today, of all days, did there have to be a monsoon? Freaking Seattle! I hated this city so much. What Derek saw in it I would never know. If not for that man, I would have taken a job elsewhere as soon as my intern year was over.

"You deserved sunshine." I mumbled grumpily, tucking a blanket around him after he was settled in our bed. I grabbed another pillow, shoving it between the wall and his head so he didn't look so uncomfortable. The twinkle in his eye just made me frown further. "What?"

"You..you're…so…"

I hoped my fingers running through what was left of his hair, just curls on one side now, would distract him. I hoped it would save him from feeling frustrated that his words were still worse than they'd been before his second hospital trip. It seemed to work, because I felt him relax under my touch, and he managed to finish his sentence.

"So cute. When you're grumpy."

I planted a kiss on his lips. My hand left his hair to take his, and I smiled when his fingers closed around mine. I settled into bed next to him, head resting against his shoulder. "Sometimes in the mornings, there is the most beautiful sunrise. I just, I wanted you to see it today. I wanted you to see something beautiful, Derek. You deserve that. You deserve everything that is good in this world. The accident has robbed you of so much, so many things that you should have. I wanted you to see the fricken sunrise."

"It's okay," His words were a whisper against the top of my head, his grip tightening on my hand ever so slightly. "It's okay." His words were shaky the second time, and I knew he was trying to convince both of us. But it wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. What if it never was?

"I hate watching you struggle. It hurts me, Derek. I don't want to do it anymore. I can't do this anymore. I can't." I was so angry when tears came without permission. I was sobbing before I even knew what happened, and I vaguely noticed Derek's arms wrapping me in an even tighter hold. He let me cry there against his chest in what I knew had to be such a hard moment for him. This was the moment I'd insisted could never happen, the moment I forbid myself from having. What was happening to me? Why could I not get a hold on my own emotions? I felt pathetic.

I could not, would not, ever, break down in front of him. And yet, there I was, epic crying in his arms. Snot and tears were, everywhere. I gulped a few times, desperately fighting back against the floodgates that had been opened. "I'm sorry. So sorry." I mumbled. I felt his hand rubbing my back, and I was angry all over again. Why was he trying to soothe me? It wasn't his job to soothe me. I couldn't do this. I needed to pull myself together. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. I concluded, as tears finally began to subside, that I must be getting ready to start my overdue period. I mean, sure, everything recently was more than enough to explain someone having a mental breakdown, but I was not normally this far gone. PMS sucked.

"It's okay," Derek planted soft kisses against my hair, whispering the same words over and over until I was calm again. He smiled when my eyes caught his. I had no idea how he could be this incredible. And yet, he proved again and again that he really was more than I ever could have hoped for. Derek was a breath of fresh air, every day, every second. "I love you." His hand fell gently behind my ear, stopping to caress my cheek. He brushed his thumb lightly across my skin as my hand moved to rest on his. "We will.." He paused, staring at me with an impassive look, and I knew he was using most of his reserves to finish that thought. "Get through…this."

"You're amazing," Words fell into the silence before I could stop them, an almost breathless whisper before I leaned in enough for my lips to meet his. I couldn't help but smile when he yawned. "Sleep, Derek. I'll be here. Do you need any pain meds?" He was pretty independent now, physically, but I helped guide him back to his pillow anyway. His eyes were already closed, and I doubted he was going to take me up on my offer for drugs, so I cuddled against him again, pulling the sheet over me to block the flow of the air from the overhead fan against my bare feet. I felt as exhausted as he looked, and since I didn't really have another explanation for why, I assumed it was because I was so emotionally spent.

"No pain."

He confirmed what I'd already surmised. I allowed my eyes to close, suddenly grateful for the steady sound of rain against the glass of our bedroom windows. It lulled me to sleep in minutes, Derek and I resting soundly there together for the next couple of hours.

When I woke, the space next to me was empty, my arm stretching across cool white sheets. The melody of the water outside was gone, leaving behind an almost eerie quiet. I frowned at the lack of warmth beside me. "Derek?" Blinking a couple times, I sat up slowly, glancing at the clock. It'd been three hours, and I was immediately shocked by how long I'd been out. "Derek?" I repeated his name, this time with more urgency. My feet found their way to the walnut boards beneath me, toes curling a bit against the sudden cold.

"Kitchen."

I released the breath I'd been holding, my sense of dread slowly subsiding. He didn't sound distressed. "What are you doing?" I hadn't meant to sound so, parental, but I couldn't help it. He'd scared me to death. The last time I was without him he'd had a seizure. His brain had been bleeding.

"Hey," If he noticed my mood, he didn't let on. He offered me a smile, motioning to the empty wine glass on the counter in front of him, a half full one next to it. "Care to indulge?"

"Derek," I stared, blinking rapidly in an effort to not look at him like he was completely insane. _Was he, insane?_ This man in front of me resembled so much of the man I'd been married to before the accident that I almost thought it was a cruel joke. This couldn't be real. Derek couldn't be standing there offering me wine, looking absurdly sexy in our kitchen with just boxers covering half of his legs. I couldn't help but look at his chiseled chest. I'm sure I stared long enough for him to notice, because it was his soft chuckle that startled me from my own thoughts. "What are you doing?" I snapped, and he grinned at me.

"Offering…my wife. A drink." He didn't wait for my answer. Instead he filled the empty vessel with crimson liquid before gently sliding it toward me.

"Derek," God, why was I acting like such an adolescent moron? Could I not put an intelligent sentence together? "What…"

"Meredith," He swallowed, hard, taking a small sip from his own glass before he continued. "We need…this. We, need some.." He sighed, clearly getting a bit frustrated. "Drink." He glanced when I picked up what he'd poured for me, and I could see tension leave him when I sipped it.

I loved wine. Only, this time wine didn't love me back. My stomach marched an immediate revolt against me, and I had to draw in a deep breath to keep from hurling onto clean tile. The glass quickly found its way back to the counter. What the hell was wrong with me?! "Are you trying to seduce me, Derek? Because it's really, really working."

My abrupt change of subject worked, because he didn't even try to respond to my bizarre reaction to the alcohol. Instead he winked at me, a twinkling behind his blue eyes. "Maybe I am."

I grinned, queasy stomach forgotten. "You, are, beautiful." I stepped in front of him, one hand resting on his chest. This moment was so normal I almost forgot everything over the last weeks. Derek's lips found their way to mine as I carefully removed the glass from his hand, setting it on the counter while my other hand trailed fingers down his bare skin. "Derek, we…" He silenced my worry and protests with another kiss, effectively shutting down my ability to even consider whether or not sex was okay given his recent surgery. Trial by fire initiated.

 **A ridiculous amount of work went into this chapter, and yet I'm still sort of nervous at how it will be received. Please let me know how you like it and the direction this story is going so far.**


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